


Clone of Desperation

by Zayroen



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Clonecest?, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, first time clone, jfc I need a better title help, selfcest?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zayroen/pseuds/Zayroen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vlad discovers he can create copies of himself and promptly takes advantage of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clone of Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame http://latte-dah.tumblr.com for this. Her and this glorious work that is the basis for this fic. https://24.media.tumblr.com/9724658103815c798bec112a1a025e78/tumblr_myrq4hsjkf1qlap9go1_500.png totally NSFW
> 
> No beta so any mistakes are mine.

Jolting up from my bed, I thrashed in the sheets that seemed to twist around me the more I tried to be free. Disoriented as I was, it wasn't exactly I was all that capable of doing more then kicking my legs and wriggling. Giving up, my back hit sweaty sheets as I took stock of where I was.

My bed, that was for sure. I knew the feel of these sheets anywhere. Had cost me a pretty penny but I would be damned if I would deal with another rash brought upon by horrible wool blankets. With that in mind, everything else slowly snapped into place and I scrubbed a hand over my face with a frustrated groan. A dream, again. Always with the blasted dreams lately and it was only getting worse.

Staring blankly at my ceiling, I could feel my heart still pounding and the remnants of the dream did nothing to help calm it down. I could still feel it, fingers on my skin followed by lips. A soft sweet voice murmuring praises against my stomach that I could never quite recall, not that it mattered. What did a phantom lover matter when the dream faded?

Finally coherent enough to kick the sheets away, I stared down at my body with annoyance. It wasn't even like I was ugly! I knew perfectly well that I was a good looking man. Nothing had changed since the...accident. Accidentmycaboosepuresabatoge Nothing except how I seem to have somehow landed in the outskirts of social circles. Nothing but pity! If there was one thing I could not stomach after getting out of the hospital, it was pity.

No matter where he went, it was the same. Old haunting grounds held memories, of when it was not just me but us and woe me if there was anyone I knew there. As if knowing that buffoon stealing Maddie away from me was not bad enough, did they have to rub it in as well?

A sigh heaved out, startling me from my thoughts and I turned my attention to what mattered at that moment. The ever present need that tended to wake me in the middle of the night. I knew from enough experience that it would not just go away on it's own and I would get no sleep until it was satisfied and there was the problem. I'd stopped being satisfied by my own hand. Sure I got off, but it did nothing for my libido. One would think I could find someone to help me but no, it seemed everyone in the entire world knew what happened and gave me a wide berth for one reason or another.

Another sigh left my lips, hand already trailing down even though I knew what the end result would be. I tried to call up the dream, clinging to the lingering feel of someone else's hands on my skin. Of a heartbeat that was not my own, soft sighs and murmurs that did not come from my lungs. It was not my hand that slid down my stomach, nails scrapping just enough to be felt and a step away from tickling. Not my fingers that trailed over my throat, following the phantom memory of lips from my dream. it had stopped being someone I knew in my dreams, I did not care who it was so long as it was not me. What I would not give for that flash of heat in someones gaze when they looked at me, for lips eager on my own and hands that fumbled with nerves as they touched skin under clothes.

Fingers wrapped around my cock and the sound of my own moan startled me from me fantasy. "Butter biscuits!" I hissed, tossing my free arm over my eyes in frustration. Not even the pleasure of stroking my cock was enough to banish the need for just someone else, anyone else! As if that was not enough, I could feel tears prickle behind my lids. I was so tired of my own touch! Eyes opening to the darkness, I slammed my hand down to the bed with a cry. Anger? Frustration? Loneliness? I didn't know but the sharp heavy ache in my chest lessened with it. Rolling to my side to muffle my voice in the rumpled pillow and just..shouted. Wordless and primal, I forced it out from the very depths and with each raw vocalization, I felt just a little better.

Inhaling one last time, I put everything into it. The last shout came from depths I didn't know I had and it felt good. It felt so good that it shocked me, a shudder running over my entire body. It brought goosebumps to my flesh, hair prickling with the feeling of it. Perhaps it was the goodness of it or maybe it was the moments of realizing that inhaling might be a good idea but either way, I realized suddenly I was not alone and jerked my head up with a gasp.

I jerked my head up to stare into glowing red eyes, so bright in the darkness of my room that I had to squint. After a long moment where my throat seemed to clench shut in fear, I was left staring with a shocking realization. It was..me. Or not me. It was..other me. The me I had discovered I could turn to. The ghost me. The question was how? Sitting up slowly, I stared into my own eyes with awe. It was me and yet not me. I could see myself, the naked me on my bed just as easily as I could see the ghost me.

I found myself reaching out without a thought, giving a low sound of surprise when the other me did the same. Touch, I could feel through this...copy? Clone? No not a clone. It was not exactly me but it was close. I could feel what the copy felt but almost in an abstract veiled way. It was fascinating and terrifying and perfect. Perhaps it was the late night, perhaps it was the building ache or the swiftly fading dream but at that moment an idea occurred to me. I could touch. I could be touched. Damn figuring out the why and the how and the when. My skin ached and the copy moved without me having to focus on it. A small part of my mind that never stopped made a note of it to be examined later but the rest of me was to busy reveling in the feel of something solid pressing my naked form down to the bed.

The duel sensory input was doing nothing for my control but that as well could be explored later. Right now? Right now my thoughts were dominated by my dick. My very happy with the feel of a gloved hand curling fingers where I very much needed it, dick. Heart pounding, I found the feel of a hand covering my mouth to only heighten the feeling of someone blessedly not me finally blissfully touching me. I was swiftly glad for the hand as my own were to busy grabbing handfuls of the sheet under me in an attempt to anchor myself in the rush of pleasure as the glove began to stroke. I found grasping the copy gave me a rather odd feeling of being able to feel myself grabbing myself and the disjointedness was enough to suggest I kept my hands down. Any oddness was soon lost in the rising swirls of pleasure.

A gloved thumb slid up the underside of my hard cock, finding that spot under my head that always made my back arch and rubbing it with a perfect pressure to wring a stuttering breath through my nose. I could see myself through the copy's glowing eyes, head arched back on the pillow, sweaty hair in disarray and embarrassingly flushed. Pushing that image from my head, I focused on the hand where I very much needed it and was startled at the prick of teeth followed by the heated glide of tongue. Not letting myself be distracted by the thoughts of 'how did the copy move without my direct thought, was it tapped into my consciousness or did it have it's own?' was rather easy when the next thought right on the heel of those were 'Holy halibut teeth feel amazing!'.

Definitely going to have to wear a high collar tomorrow but it would be worth it, so very worth it. Arching my head back into the pillow more to bare my throat, I realized suddenly that I was teetering on the edge of an orgasm strong enough that my toes were curling. Much like acknowledging a cut made it hurt, the same applied as I was suddenly trying to fight off cumming. Not yet, oh not yet! I did not want it to end just yet, I desperately wanted to be touched more but it was far too late to stop now. I tasted blood and it took a moment or five before I realized it was not my but rather the copy that tasted it, a fang cutting just enough and I was gone.

Fingers catching in the copy's cape, I howled loud enough that my voice cracked and I swear I must have gone under the rush of sweetgoodnessyespleasemoreyes! for a moment. As the next thing I knew, I was sprawled over the now rather messy sheets with the copy wiping a cloth over my skin where cum had managed to get up my chest. Everything still felt hazy, like when you stand up to fast and the world seems to slow for long heartbeats. I had to explore this new development of my powers.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I would try to examine the copy. See if I could create it again, something told me that it would not be there when I woke. All of that could be dealt with tomorrow as right then? I was too focused on the lack of tension in my body. it had been so long that I felt at ease in my own skin that I reveled in it even as sleep wrapped it's fingers around my mind and drew me under. Tomorrow would be...fantastic.


End file.
